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I lived in Germany during my high school years, and unfortunately, I acquired a taste for German food.

I say unfortunately because German restaurants are not very common in the United States. Ironic.

Every now and then, I run across places that serve bier and schnitzel and the like. Frankly, they usually aren’t very good.

But last month, on a trip to Oregon and Washington, I found a real wiener — I mean, winner: Gustav’s Pub & Grill.

Gustav’s is a small, Portland-area chain that’s the real deal. They serve authentic, high-quality German food in a setting that resembles an upscale beer hall.

As much as I enjoyed my meal and the atmosphere, I’ll probably remember Gustav’s most for a series of conversations I had with the employees. Before I left, I think I spoke to everyone on staff except the cooks.

It began when the hostess escorted me to my table.

“Having a good day?” she asked over her shoulder.

I said I was having a fine day, but sadly, it was the last day of my vacation. I had to fly home the following morning.

“Where’s home?”

I told her I was from Atlanta. That’s what I usually tell people. Jefferson always draws a blank.

“Oh, wow!” she replied. “We just hired a new guy who moved here from Atlanta!”

“Small world,” I said.

We arrived at my table, and she handed me the menu. “How long was your vacation?” she asked. I told her two weeks.

“Where did you go?”

I told her everywhere — along the Pacific coast, around the Olympic peninsula, up the Cascade Range, through the Columbia River Gorge.

“Sounds great,” she said. “This area is so beautiful. So much to see.”

The hostess left, and I turned to the menu and zeroed in on the beer list. I noted with pleasure that Gustav’s serves authentic Hofbräu beer on tap, imported from München.

Soon, my waitress appeared.

“Hi!” she said. “I hear you’re from Atlanta. We have a new guy on staff from Atlanta!”

“So I hear,” I replied.

“His name is Doug. He’s a young single guy, and he was just curious about the Northwest, so here he is.”

She told me more about young Doug and bragged on the region a bit. I ordered a stein of Hofbräu, and she departed.

A few minutes later, another server arrived with my beer.

“Here you go,” she said brightly. “I hear you’re in the area on vacation, and you drove down the Pacific coast! My boyfriend and I are gonna do that next week!”

She sat down in the booth across from me. “What was it like?”

She listened intently as I gave her a summary of my trip. A few times, she asked about specific towns and attractions.

Then, suddenly, she jumped up. “Oops, I HAVE to get back to work!” she said. “Thanks, I really appreciate the information! Bye!” she said and hurried away.

Soon, my regular waitress returned. I ordered dinner — a sausage platter, the Food of the Gods.

As I sat there waiting on dinner, playing Hangman on my iPod Touch, a man in a suit appeared at my table. He had bossman written all over him.

“Good evening, sir,” he said with a formal smile. “I hope everything is satisfactory.” I said everything was quite satisfactory.

“Someone mentioned that you’re from Atlanta. I just hired a young man from Atlanta.”

“So I hear,” I replied.

“He’s an interesting young fellow. He was curious about this area, so he just packed up and moved here to explore the region. He’s young, so why not?”

I asked the bossman about the Gustav’s chain and bemoaned the scarcity of German restaurants in our great nation.

“Preparing German food well is not easy,” he said. “Many places try and fail.”

Soon, my time was up, and the bossman moved on to other customers.

My sausage platter arrived, and it was exceptional. I spent the next 15 minutes in culinary heaven.

During the meal, a waiter, a young African American fellow, walked up. Aha, I thought, this must be the famous Doug.

“Hi,” he said. “I hear you’re from Atlanta. Me, too.”

We shook hands and talked for a bit about the Atlanta area, the Pacific Northwest, and the people in both places.

“I miss my family,” he said. “But there’s so much to do around here, especially if you’re an outdoorsy person. I really like it. The people here are almost as friendly as in the South.”

He said he wasn’t sure how long he would stay out West. He figured it would work itself out in time.

Doug went back to work, and I finished my delightful dinner. Soon, the waitress appeared with my check.

I held up a jar of Gustav’s Bavarian Whole Grain Bier Mustard, which I had practically emptied during dinner. “This stuff is excellent,“ I said. “Do you sell it?”

“You bet!” she said. “I’ll go get a jar for you.”

A minute or two later, a red-haired woman in a suit arrived, carrying some paperwork.

“Hi,” she said. “About the mustard… we have a situation.”

She sat down in the booth across from me. “I can’t believe we’re out. I just ordered four cases last week.”

“I’ll get more in a few days,” she said. “I can either mail a jar to you when the new stock comes in, or, we have an online store going live in about a  week. You could order it from our website when you get back to Atlanta.”

I told her to mail it.

I paid the bill and headed for the door. On the way out, I got a goodbye wave from the hostess, two servers, Doug, and the red-haired woman.

If you’re in Portland, be sure to try Gustav’s. For more about the restaurant, and to purchase some of that excellent Bavarian Whole Grain Bier Mustard, check out their website.

The place is a real wiener.